


through drought you survive

by blackkat



Series: luminous beings are we [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon Jedi, Flirting, Humor, Innuendo, M/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Quinlan follows the sounds of a youngling through the silent halls of the station.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Quinlan Vos
Series: luminous beings are we [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838944
Comments: 37
Kudos: 922





	through drought you survive

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: KAT! A clone hugging his helmet and there's a baby!dragon inside, little paws hooked over the edge and looking up at the clone, BLEPPING!!!! Big eyes, cute tiny size, and their tongue is sticking out. Just the tip of their tongue, and that image is just 👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽

Quinlan follows the sounds of a youngling through the silent halls of the station.

He doesn’t move quickly, for more reasons than just his certainty that the trick with the chemical spill will keep all of the Separatists out of the place for a good long while. After all, that’s not the sound of a youngling in distress; those soft little chirps that vibrate through the air and the Force in equal measure are all thanks, caught up in joy. It’s the sound of a youngling rescued, not in danger, and one who knows her rescuer at that.

Measured, even steps carry him right up to a door that looks like it’s recently been forced open, kicked in. There's a pair of droids on the ground outside of it, too, mangled, and Quinlan crouches to check them, finds no mark of a blaster or even a vibroblade. Just bare hands, and he raises a brow, impressed, and then straightens. Pulls his gloves up a little further, then checks that his robes won't get in the way of drawing his lightsaber if he needs to and steps through the doorway.

The room is functionally a prison cell, if one built for a child. Everything is small, from the cot to the set of dishes on the table, but it’s almost bare, clinical in its whiteness. A medical droid is in here, on the ground in pieces, and Quinlan lets his gaze linger on it for a moment, assessing, and then slowly, deliberately raises his eyes to the clone seated on the floor.

It’s Obi-Wan’s commander, his armor scorched, a piece of it ripped away. Blood stains his blacks, a wet patch Quinlan can see from the way the light catches it, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His helmet is in his lap, upside down, and he’s leaning over it with a look on his face that’s very close to wonder.

As Quinlan watches, the little Nautolan youngling pokes just the tip of her nose over the side of Cody's bucket, long whiskers twitching. She’s a bright coral-red dragon, with a golden mane and big blue eyes, and as she hooks tiny webbed paws over the edge of the helmet and pulls herself up, Cody makes a quiet, almost desperate sound, one hand coming up to frame the edge.

“Careful,” he says, quick, and when she chitters at him, he smiles. “Careful, sweetheart, those wings don’t look functional just yet.”

“Nautolan Jedi can't fly,” Quinlan says, propping his shoulder against the doorframe. When Cody twitches hard, jerking his helmet back to put himself between the youngling and the door, Quinlan raises a hand and offers Cody a grin, lazy and amused. “Hey, Commander. Looking good.”

“General Vos.” If Quinlan were a weaker man, he’d say the relief on Cody's face was a direct hit to the chest, almost enough to knock him back on his heels. But Quinlan's a better actor than that; even if it’s true, he can keep his smile, even as Cody comes to his feet and takes a step towards him. “Sir, I don’t—she keeps squeaking, and I don’t know what she needs—”

Quinlan reaches out, covering Cody's hands where they rest on his helmet, and doesn’t take it from him. “Easy, Commander. She’s just happy you saved her. That’s her way of saying thanks right now.”

Cody's expression flickers, and he takes a breath. Pulls the bucket back towards his chest, like he can't bear to let go of the girl, and then says, “I couldn’t save the Knight who found her. The Seps killed her. And she didn’t—” He hesitates, looking down at the dragon again like he doesn’t know what to say.

“She was a Devaronian, right?” Quinlan asks. When Cody nods, he blows out a breath through his nose, and says, “Not like every Jedi's the same when they shift, but Devaronians tend to have big horns, and lots of fire. She probably didn’t want to risk punching a hole in the station.”

For a long moment, Cody just stares at him. Then, slowly, he drops his eyes to the youngling, who’s still peering up at him with her paws on the rim of his bucket. The rest of her body, all tail and bright fins, is coiled around the inside of it, and she’s watching him with wide eyes, the very tip of her long tongue caught between her teeth. She’s barely the size of a housecat, her whiskers not even as long as Quinlan's pinky yet, and he has to grin at her, at the way she looks nestled in a clone’s helmet.

“I thought—I thought Ponds was pulling my leg,” Cody admits after a minute, voice a little rough. He raises a hand, and when the youngling just looks up at him expectantly, he carefully, gently strokes the top of her head with one fingertip, right beside the fin crest.

Quinlan knows the stories of Jedi, and all the ways they get twisted. There are so few Jedi to begin with that everything sounds fake, even the stuff that’s true. He hums, not judging, just amused, and asks, “And how’s your leg feeling now?”

“Distinctly un-pulled,” Cody says, dust-dry, and glances up at him again. “This isn't a Nautolan thing? It’s just—a Jedi thing?”

Quinlan shrugs. “Apparently,” he says, and when Cody raises a brow at him, he grins. “Jedi can turn into dragons. Some people think it’s got something to do with the midichlorians. I've heard someone claim it’s a defense mechanism. No one really knows. But younglings shift a lot—it’s one of the ways we find them.”

“She’s not hurt?” Cody asks, sounding relieved. “I thought I scared her.”

“What, when you were taking droids out with your bare hands?” Quinlan grins. “Sorry to break it to you, Commander, but that’s not scary, it’s _sexy_.”

Cody snorts quietly, still petting the youngling. “That’s not what General Kenobi usually says.”

Quinlan rolls his eyes. “Obi-Wan’s a stick in the swamp,” he says dismissively, and smirks at Cody. “I bet you know how to have a good time, though, Commander.”

The youngling squeaks, wordless demand, and wriggles up. Cody makes a sound of alarm, but Quinlan lunges before he can grab her, snatches her up as she starts to fall over the edge of the helmet. Cheerfully, she warbles at him, her two little paws wrapped around his thumb and forefinger, whiskers twitching and shifting. Apparently content where she is, she wraps her long tail around Quinlan's arm, then burrows in against his hand and sends him a distinct wash of _happy-peace-sleepy-hungry_.

“Little ocean rat,” Quinlan mutters, but fondly, and breathes out, trying to get his heartrate back under control. She chirps at him, unbothered by the insult, and Quinlan rolls his eyes but carefully cradles his occupied hand against his chest. “Apparently we’re switching off on babysitting duty,” he tells Cody.

Cody's smile is rueful. “Good. I need time to recover from that heart attack.” He pauses, looking her over, and then asks, “All younglings do this?”

Quinlan shrugs. “Most of them, yeah. It’s easier to shift when we’re small. The bigger we get, the more effort it takes. Younglings are hard to keep in their normal form, though. Being like this—it’s comfortable.”

He and Obi-Wan and Luminara all used to spend most of their time with their scales out. Some of Quinlan's memories can be fuzzy sometimes, but—he remembers that clearly. Sleeping in piles, and hunting bugs in the vegetable gardens, and swimming in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It was easier, then, and the shift didn’t cost as much. Quinlan kind of regrets that it can be so hard now. Being in dragon form is _fun_.

When he lifts his head, Cody is staring at him, an odd look on his face. When Quinlan raises a brow at him, though, he just tucks his helmet under his arm and smiles. “You must have made a cute dragon, General Vos.”

“Made?” Quinlan repeats in mock outrage. “I'm _still_ an adorable dragon, thanks. Obi-Wan will back me up on this.”

Cody snorts, then pauses. His face does something complicated, and he splays a hand over his eyes with a groan. “General Kenobi's a dragon, too.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says, grinning. “A fussy, whiskery, stuck up, reckless idiot of a dragon. His whole hoard is tea, I swear. I have no idea what people see in him.”

“He’s more charming than you are,” Cody says dryly.

The youngling squeaks, like she’s adding insult to injury.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s a critic.” Quinlan tucks her in a little closer to his chest. “At least _I'm_ not afraid to get more than ten meters off the ground when I fly.”

Cody pauses. He looks at the youngling, then at Quinlan, and Quinlan would have to be blind to miss the spark of excitement in his eyes. “ _Fly_.”

“Well, yeah.” Quinlan grins at him, all lazy intent. “ _My_ wings aren’t just for decoration, like Obi-Wan seems to think his are.” He considers Cody's face, then raises a brow, taking a step closer. “Why, Commander? Interested in taking a ride?”

Cody's eyes flicker from his down to his mouth, linger. After several frozen seconds, he takes a step forward, one hand dropping to Quinlan's waist. Another pause, like he’s waiting for an object that Quinlan couldn’t even _imagine_ giving, and his mouth curves. “How about we make a night of it?” he says. “You give me a ride and then I give you one.”

Quinlan laughs, delighted. “ _Commander_ ,” he says. “Little ears are listening.”

“She thinks you're ridiculous, too, don’t worry,” Cody says, and Quinlan snorts, then gently covers the youngling’s eyes. She chirps at him, indignant, but Quinlan sends her a flicker of _mushy-adults-nothing-you-need-to-see_ and she relents with a tiny squeak.

It gives Quinlan all the permission he needs to lean in and kiss Cody, light and quick. When he draws back, he’s smirking.

“A ride?” he asks. “Generally that implies I'm doing all the work, which I don’t think’s fair—mmph.”

“Just take the offer,” Cody says, and then kisses him a third time, fingers tangled in his dreads. It tastes like relief and revelation and maybe something like joy, and there's nothing for Quinlan to do but kiss him back.


End file.
